Shadows
by Crackinois
Summary: A home invasion gone wrong has Jane questioning if there's more to the case than meets the eye.  This story takes some liberty with background information and also introduces an original character. Sort of follow up to Revelations series.
1. Daybreak

CH1: Daybreak

Jane was restless. She'd watched the hours tick by through the night, the red digital numbers parading with reckless abandon across the face of the clock. It wasn't regular run of the mill insomnia. This was a definite feeling of anxiety about something and she couldn't explain it. Running the past few days through her head failed to conjure up anything in particular that had gone wrong or that might be looming ahead. Work had been normal, as normal as work as a homicide detective could be. In fact, it had almost been relatively demure. On second thought, that in and of itself was possibly abnormal. She'd wrapped up a few cases, dotted the I's and crossed the T's, there had been some prepping for court on one case but it was a slam dunk and both she and the DA were confident it would go off without a hitch.

_So, what the hell is it?_

She flopped over onto her side. The dull grey light of the imminent daybreak was starting to filter in through the windows. A slight smile crept onto her face as she could just start to make out Maura's form still asleep. But, even the comfort of sharing the bed with Maura hadn't been able to dull the nagging anxiety that had plagued her all night. That made the feeling even more unsettling. Maura had helped her to leave the workday at the threshold of the bedroom door. When Jane first started letting Maura show her the meditation techniques and how to get into a relaxation routine at night it was more just to humor her. But, much to her surprise it had worked pretty well and the past several months had been some of the best nights of sleep she'd had in…well, she couldn't remember how long. Not tonight though.

_Something's not right._

She scooted closer to Maura, lying face to face with her. Reaching up she brushed away some errant strands of hair that had fallen across the sleeping woman's cheek. She let her arm come to rest around her, lightly scratching her back. It was comforting to touch her; to feel the warmth of her skin under delicately placed fingertips. Tracing the curve of her hips, of her back. Running her hands through Maura's hair released the lilac scent of her shampoo.

"You've been tossing and turning" Maura muttered, barely audible. She didn't open her eyes but she moved her hand up to Jane's cheek and stroked it sympathetically.

Jane exhaled. "I'm sorry. Did I keep you up all night?"

"Not all night."

Jane scooted in closer and placed a soft kiss on Maura's lips. She sighed as she nuzzled her face into Maura's neck and shoulder. Maura rolled over on her back pulling Jane with her to let Jane's head rest on her chest. Wrapping her arms around Jane she began to stroke the brunette's hair, trying to soothe her.

"Yoga isn't until 10, you could still get a couple of hours of sleep. Try to clear your mind…" her voice trailed off as Maura was starting to drift back to sleep herself.

Jane counted off the seconds and minutes that passed to the rhythm of Maura's heartbeat, to no avail. Her gut was telling her something out there was brewing. Her natural instinct had rarely misled her. It's what made her a good detective, having the instinct and knowing to trust it. Maura delicately maneuvered onto her side pulling Jane's arm across her. Jane squeezed her in tight, pressing her body flush against Maura's back. Her arm flexed, her grip tight around Maura's midsection, her hand clutch to Maura's chest like she was afraid someone might try to wrench the woman out of her arms.

Maura exhaled, she could feel the tension in Jane's arm the stiffness in her body, "If you're not going to try to sleep, do you want to talk about it?"

Jane tried to press in even closer to Maura; she threaded one leg in between Maura's legs and kissed her on the shoulder.

"There's nothing to talk about, that's just it, I can't figure out what it is. I just have a bad feeling about something."

Jane lifted her head to take a look over Maura's shoulder.

The clock read 7:03.

Tara Callaghan required a certain environment to sleep. The room had to be dark, pitch black, so she'd always had her bedroom painted in dark hues – forest green or navy blue with light-blocking shades over the windows and heavyweight dark curtains. As a child her parents had asked her if she liked living in a cave. The room couldn't be hot; she couldn't sleep if it was hot. In college she'd gone through 3 roommates because of opening the windows of the dorm room in the winter. The fourth roommate had a boyfriend and never slept in the room, that was the perfect arrangement. There couldn't be much noise; she was a light sleeper. But it couldn't be too quiet; some ambient white noise was needed, the monotonous whirring of a ceiling fan would typically do it. Tara had found a portable noise machine in a gadget catalog some years back and she'd bought it for when she had to travel. You could customize the sound; she usually turned on a faint drum rhythm overlaid with the sound of rain. She even had a certain pillow arrangement to accommodate the patterned difference in how she slept on her right side versus her left.

Needless to say the past three nights Tara had spent in the hospital at her mother's bedside had been relatively sleepless. Only when absolute exhaustion and grief had overtaken her had she managed to doze off just long enough to stave off what she was sure was imminent sleep deprivation psychosis.

The hospital room was so bright. The window treatments barely shielded the room's reflective white walls from the bright lights of Boston. The life support machines a cacophony of nerve grating blips, buzzes and warnings mixing with the never ending parade of carts, gurneys and hospital monitors, which rolled up and down the hallway all day, and all night. There had been a few code blue call outs followed by the sounds of doctors and nurses running. Occasionally there was the sound of crying. Some other patient's family member, too proud to break down in the presence of loved ones, would remove themself to the hallway when the grief was too much. Tara wasn't sure why people preferred to cry in front of strangers.

Tara sat on the bed next to her mother and held her hand. Her face was barely recognizable from the beating. Margaret Callaghan had sported a dignified head of silver hair. Tara called it her mother's Meryl Streep haircut, because it reminded her of Meryl's coif from The Devil Wears Prada. The doctors had to shave most of it off when they performed the surgery to try and relieve the intracranial pressure.

_What kind of monsters…what kind of monsters, break in a house and brutally beat a 60 year old woman. For what, for a little cash and some jewelry? She wouldn't have put up a struggle they could have taken what they wanted and left. They didn't have to do this._

Margaret's vitals had continued to decline through the night. The surgery hadn't worked. Even if it had, the extent of the head trauma was so severe the doctors were shocked she had even survived the initial beating; they had warned Tara if her mother did wake up the brain damage could be severe.

_She wouldn't want that, she wouldn't want to live like that,_ Tara had thought. Brain damaged, a burden, an invalid who would need to be cared for. Margaret Callaghan would rather die. She had been too alive to suffer the indignity of being imprisoned in a useless body. Tara had decided to let her mother's body decide. Margaret Callaghan had made her choice.

The hospital sent in a priest at Tara's request, Margaret was a devout Catholic, he and one of the nurses had stayed quietly in the shadows for the past hour.

When Margaret's heart rate and blood pressure dropped into the red the nurse moved forward to switch the warning buzzer off.

Tara tightened her grip on her mother's hand and waited for the inevitable.

Margaret Callaghan slipped away.

Tara leaned forward to hug her mother one last time, the priest placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as the nurse switched off the machines and went to note the chart.

Time of death, 7:03.


	2. Locked Away

CH2: Locked Away

Being with Maura meant going to yoga. It was one of the unwritten rules that had come to be part of their relationship. Alternating between stints at Jane's apartment and time at Maura's house, made it even more difficult for Jane to worm her way out of a class. Someone would literally have to die. A case was about the only legitimate excuse. It really wasn't that Jane disliked yoga; it was more about the public display of doing yoga in a class…with other people…other, more flexible coordinated people. It made her feel like Roly-Poly Rizzoli all over again, she was taller, skinnier now yes but it had that same sense of not belonging. But Maura enjoyed it, and Jane enjoyed doing things Maura enjoyed. And it would be a lie if Jane denied liking watching Maura do yoga. Besides, Maura had endured plenty of games and evenings of Sports Center without complaint. Jane was actually looking forward to yoga this morning though, anything to take her mind off the mysterious nothingness that had kept her awake all night.

They staked out their usual spot in the studio towards the back, it made Jane particularly uncomfortable to have anyone behind her while she was doing Downward Dog. Maura had tried to explain once that the extreme discomfort someone would experience in that position by trying to lift their head to look forward and up meant her posterior was more than safe from prying eyes. It gave her little comfort. But, just as they were limbering up Jane's cell rang.

"Fuck" Jane growled.

"Jane!" Maura exclaimed cutting her eyes exasperatedly in her direction.

"Sorry…" she whispered as she stepped out to answer the call.

"Rizzoli"

"It's Frost, sorry to call on your day off…"

"It's fine…we pick up a case or something?"

"My old partner from robbery called, you know that string of home invasions they've been working…"

"Yeah."

"Three days ago they thought they had another one, location wise it fit the general radius these creeps have been working. But, there are some inconsistencies…the biggest one being they beat this homeowner to a bloody pulp..."

"None of the other invasions had injuries right? Just tied the people up, scared 'em?" Jane was familiar with the case, the spate of break-ins weren't just common knowledge on the force they had gotten their mileage in the nightly news as well.

"Yeah, but this time they did a number, an older lady, she held out for three days in ICU but she died this morning. Technically, that makes it a homicide and with the other breaks in the pattern they'd like us to come in on this one."

_So much for yoga_. "Eh, robbery's just not used to dealing with DB's. Hey, they don't all have you're uh…delicate constitution do they?" Jane couldn't pass up the chance to give Frost a little good-natured ribbing; he was ruining the one morning she was actually looking forward to yoga class after all.

"Real funny, Jane."

"Hey, you know I gotta give you a hard time every now and then, can't let Korsak have all the fun. No of course we can take a look, where are you now?"

"I'm at the hospital with the guys from robbery and the vic's daughter. But we're about to head over to the station."

"Ok, I'll meet you there, have robbery bring up their files on those other invasions."

Jane strode down the hallway making her way to the coffee pot. Catching a case had re-energized her somewhat but she was still in desperate need of caffeine.

Tara Callaghan poured a cup of coffee for herself, 3 sugars and 2 creams. She felt numb. All of her movements were on autopilot. She turned around recklessly bumping into Jane and nearly dumping the entire contents of her cup down the front of the detective's shirt.

"Sorry! I…"

"No, don't worry about it, no harm no foul." Something about the young woman caused Jane to pause and then the earlier sense of unease started to creep back into her. Tara Callaghan's green eyes held Jane Rizzoli's stare; she didn't look away. _Ok, a little strange_, Jane thought as she gave a half-hearted smile and stepped around the woman to the coffee pot.

Jane walked into the squad room to see Frost conferring with a couple of the detectives from robbery. They began filling her in on the details. The current questionable case not included there had been 7 home invasions in the past 4 months: middle income neighborhoods, low traffic streets, none of the houses had alarm systems or dogs, the victims had either been single or had been hit while the spouse wasn't home. This pattern suggested the perps had cased their targets. There were 4 men, white, but they wore masks and gloves. They tied up the victims, 1 of the perps wielded a gun. They stole cash, jewelry, and portable electronics. They would break things, according to the witnesses seemingly for the hell of it. When they'd had their fun they left. The victims were left traumatized but physically unharmed.

The Margaret Callaghan case broke some of the pattern. She lived alone and in a neighborhood that fit the perps' preferences. But, she had an alarm. She must have been forced to disarm it, but she entered in a dummy code, which cut the sound but still sent the alert to the security company. The house was ransacked but little was actually broken. They were waiting on Margaret's daughter to confirm if she noticed anything in particular stolen though their own search had found cash still in Margaret's purse, a few pieces of jewelry scattered on the bedroom dresser. The assailants had brutally beaten the 60 year old and either left her for dead or were unable to finish the assault as the police arrived.

"Whaddya think?" Frost looked over at Jane who was studying the maps and crime scene photos on the board.

She looked over at the two detectives from robbery, "These guys you've been chasing…they've been too planned, too patterned to miss something like an alarm system. They're about the thrill, the power they have over the vic in their home, it gives them a rush. They take untraceable easy to transport items. None of the loot has been recovered from pawn so they're probably holding on to it, or giving it away to friends or family."

Jane walked up to the board and tapped the picture of Margaret Callaghan with her finger. "This is different. There's something deeper here. This was about inflicting pain. Have the daughter give the house a good once over, I bet there's nothing even missing."

Jane and Frost sat in the car outside Margaret Callaghan's house. Tara had wanted to go in alone.

"Something about her…strike you as a little…odd?" Jane looked over questioningly at her partner.

"I don't know, her mother WAS just murdered, anyone would be a little out of themselves after that" Frost replied.

"Yeah, but…there's just something about her. I can't put my finger on it. You know, I couldn't sleep last night. Had this weird feeling like something was about to go wrong. Then you called this morning with this. Maybe this is what was giving me that feeling, the universe was telling me I was about to pick up some weird ass case."

"You see dead people too, Rizzoli?" They both chuckled.

Tara Callaghan exited the house.

"You know…" Frost looked over at Jane, "…she does sort of have a familiar look. She resembles someone." They both eyed Tara closely as she locked the front door and headed down the front walk.

Jane turned around to give her a reassuring smile as she took a seat in the back of the car. "Well…?"

"I didn't notice anything major missing. Mom never wore much jewelry she didn't even own a computer, what was in there looks like what she had. I can't be completely certain nothing's gone though. It's been awhile since I've been in Boston to visit her. Except…the only thing I couldn't find…was her cell phone."

Jane raised an eyebrow, "Cell phone, huh?"

Tara nodded, "Yeah, but she never used it much, she always called from the land line. It could just be stashed somewhere random or maybe she got rid of it and didn't tell me."

"We can run the phone records, see if it's in use anywhere…" Frost looked over at Jane who nodded in agreement.

"What's that?" Jane looked down at an extra key ring Tara had exited the house with.

"She has a safety deposit box. She told me once where she kept the key and that when her time came there would be a few items in it she wanted me to have. Is it ok that I took it?"

Jane nodded, "Yeah, no problem."

Unwritten rule #2, when Jane was starting a new case she preferred to stay at her apartment. The autopsy on Margaret Callaghan had been relatively straightforward. The hospital had sent over her file. Cause of death was due to traumatic brain injury. Maura needed only officially confirm what the surgeons noted and the CT scans showed.

She picked up some Chinese food on her way to Jane's.

The tantalizing smell of the takeout still lingered in the hallway when Jane arrived at her building. She felt like one of those old cartoon characters lifted up off the ground and carried by the smell of some delicious morsel to the location of the feast.

Maura was sitting on the sofa fiddling around on the laptop.

"Mmm Chinese food. Have you been here long?" Jane asked.

"No, only about 5 minutes, the food should still be hot." She looked up and gave Jane a smile and started to get up but the detective stepped over the back of the sofa and plopped down next to her instead.

"Sorry I had to bail on yoga this morning. I was actually really looking forward to it after last night."

"Did the anxiety pass?" While Maura herself preferred to rely on the dictates of science through her observation of Jane she had found it impossible to deny the power of instinct. It was fascinating in many ways, the inherent inclination of some species towards patterned behavior. Action patterns that are unlearned and inherited. Certain instincts are necessary for the survival of particular species. Instinct, according to sociobiologists, is slightly different in humans. But humans do possess some inherent motivational forces not completely unlike animal instinct. Maura wished she had more of that ingrained "instinct" towards people, but she felt like she had always had difficulty in naturally reading people's intentions in getting that pointed feeling of rightness or wrongness. That's why she had developed her side project of facial muscle recognition. Jane didn't need a computer program though. She had that "gut feeling" and more often than not it led her in the right direction.

Jane sighed, "No…in fact, when I met the vic's daughter, something about her triggered it all over again."

Maura furrowed her brow, "You think the daughter was involved?"

"No, daughter doesn't even live in Boston, it's more like, I think there's more to this case than meets the eye. It looks like a home invasion gone wrong, but I don't think that's it. And this chick, Tara Callaghan, she's maybe a little strange, but she reminds me of something and it's driving me nuts! I'm getting this feeling she might be in danger. I don't know why, I just….Grrr!" Jane was getting exasperated; she ran her hand through her hair.

"Come here," Maura pulled Jane into a kiss. Breathlessly she said, "You'll figure it out." She stared into Jane's eyes, massaging her temples with her thumbs.

Jane slumped forward against the relaxing pressure, she couldn't help but let a little laugh escape, _tough detective Rizzoli, broken down by the love of a woman._ She pulled Maura into an embrace and kissed her on the neck, she let her lips linger before giving her a slight nip. Maura giggled.

Jane looked up "Ok, ready to eat?" Maura nodded.

They walked to the kitchen counter, "Did you get the Lao Mein?" Jane questioned as she began to root through the take out boxes.

"Of course" Maura said as she laid out two plates.

Jane grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close applying more kisses to her neck. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

Maura smiled over her shoulder, "Yes, but I hope for more reasons than just knowing your Lucky Panda order."


	3. Blood and Belonging

CH3: Blood and Belonging

Tara Callaghan spent the night in a hotel but the following afternoon she packed her bags and found herself standing at the front door to her mother's house. Detective Frost had called earlier in the day to let her know it was cleared and she could stay there if she wanted. She spent the next few hours half-heartedly cleaning the mess from the break-in. The neatly wrapped package containing the mysterious contents of the safety deposit box sat untouched on the kitchen counter.

Around 8pm Tara perused her mother's wine collection. Margaret Callaghan always had a penchant for a good red wine. It was one of the few luxuries in life she would splurge on. Tara took the bottle, a glass and the package to the sitting room. She sipped nervously on the wine, swirling it in the glass and inhaling its aroma between sips, she wasn't sure why but something about the box made her uneasy. Setting the wine glass down on the coffee table she opened it.

There was a will and the account numbers and passwords to her mother's checking and savings account. Two bracelets caught Tara's eye, one a silver cuff, the other a gold cuff, both exquisite filigree craftsmanship. Tara recognized them immediately as her grandmother's. Two sealed letters were the next layer. Underneath the letters were her grandparents' immigration papers from coming through Ellis Island. Clipped to the papers some old pictures of them in Ireland before they had left. Tara smiled as she ran her fingers across the pictures. There were some pictures of her mother in younger years mixed in. _History, my history._ Margaret had noted and dated all of the pictures, all of them but one: a picture of a man, who Tara didn't recognize, holding a baby.

She laid the pictures down and turned to the letters. One was labeled with her name, the other blank. She opened the first one:

_My Dearest Tara,_

_If you're reading this it means I've died a coward. I know the explanations I have to offer may be of little comfort at first for the secrets I've kept from you. It is my hope that one day, you will be able to understand why I did what I did and maybe you'll forgive me._

_Thomas Callaghan, the man you knew as your father, was not your biological father…_

Tara couldn't catch her breath. The hand holding the letter curled into a tight fist the sound of the paper crumpling and the words which escaped her lips in a faint whisper, _not your father_, echoed through Tara's mind like nails raking excruciatingly down a chalkboard. She didn't even hear herself scream or feel her free hand slamming the wine glass into the coffee table shattering it, glass, tears, and red wine mixed with blood…drip, drop.

She sat, slumped off the edge of the sofa for an indeterminate amount of time. She couldn't feel the heartbeat in her chest for the pulsing and burning of her hand. _Am I alive?_ Lifting her palm small shards of class clinked to the table, crystalline teardrops, the faint odor of Merlot and iron radiated from the gashes, she watched vacantly as the anointed liquid trickled down her arm.

Nothing new had come to light on the Callaghan case that day. No one had seen anything; no one had heard anything. There was no DNA, no fingerprints.

Jane stood in the shower, her hands pressed against the wall propping her up as the hot water flowed cleansingly over her head. She didn't hear Maura enter the bathroom, nor the sound of her robe being discarded on the floor. The sound of the water and the din of her own thoughts obscured slight creaking as Maura delicately drew back the shower curtain and stepped in. She paused to admire Jane's form, long and lean, the scar from the shooting had faded noticeably, her skin was streaked pink from the hot water.

Maura stepped forward and placed her hands on Jane's hips; Jane's back tensed and she raised her head as Maura pressed against her.

"Relax…" Maura whispered into her ear, "…this case has you so tense…" she began to kiss and suck at Jane's neck as her hands traveled up Jane's abdomen to cup her breasts.

"…and since my meditation routines haven't worked, I thought we could try…a different technique."

Jane turned around in Maura's arms as the shorter woman continued her attention to Jane's neck and collarbone.

Through closed eyes Jane answered, "Is that your…medical opinion?"

"Mmmmmhmmm" Maura smiled as she backed Jane against the shower wall.

She liked it when Maura took control like this. Jane naturally had a dominant energy, cultivated over years of competitive sports, further heightened by the need for toughness in her line of work. When she had been with men she had found relinquishing control difficult. Men wanted to dominate her, to prove they could, or out of some biological need to demonstrate their machismo. Jane found that decidedly unsexy. It was different with Maura. Maura had a better instinct for people than she gave herself credit for. She knew when Jane needed to be in control and she knew when Jane needed that burden lifted. It wasn't a competition with Maura; it wasn't a fight. It was desire and need, want and fulfillment, a perfect symbiosis.

Jane arched her back as Maura's fingers entered her. She tightened her grip on Maura's back and shoulder and then wound one of her hands into Maura's damp hair as her lover's rhythm sped up and pushed deeper inside.

Jane gasped as she climaxed and if not for Maura's arm wrapped around her she might have collapsed in the shower. She slumped forward to rest her head on Maura's shoulder. Skin on skin, Maura's breath teasing over her damp neck giving her goosebumps, the feathery sensation of Maura stroking her back. They stayed like that until the water ran cold.

Tara placed some gauze in the palm of her hand and wrapped it tightly with an ace bandage. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror; the vanity light glistened off the tears still pooled in her bloodshot eyes. She reached out and touched the empty image staring back, feeling was returning but it was only anger. Rearing back Tara put her fist through the reflection.

A trail of blood drops led her back to the letter, crumpled and stained lying on the floor amongst the shards of blood and wine-stained glass.

Smoothing it out, she continued.

…_Thomas knew, and he loved you. He loved you very much, you will always be his daughter and no ties of blood will ever change that. But I owe you an explanation and to do it justice I have to go back before you were born._

_Your father is a man named Patrick Doyle. We met many years before you were conceived. He wasn't a good man, but you can't help who you love, and I loved him. In those days organized crime ran Boston, and Paddy was part of that world. Six years before I became pregnant with you I had another daughter. Paddy had enemies and he was sure his enemies would use our child to get to him. He took her from my arms and put her up for adoption. He said it was best for her and for us. I never saw her again and while I still loved Paddy, not for the man who did horrible things to others, but for the man I knew in my home, I couldn't find a way to forgive him for costing me my child. The untitled picture you have no doubt found amongst the others is the only picture of her I ever had. That is your sister, and Paddy._

_I left Paddy not long after that. Some six years later we had a chance encounter and a one-night stand. A couple of months later I met Thomas. We had you and put Thomas' name on the birth certificate and packed up and moved to Chicago. I never told Paddy about you._

_There were so many times I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Next to letting Paddy take your sister from me, it is my greatest regret that I couldn't muster the courage. I was afraid, of so many things…of the people that would stop at nothing and do anything to punish Paddy, of the guilt I would feel if I told you and you got caught up in his world, of telling you and having you hate me while I was still alive to feel it._

_I lost track of Paddy's life when we left Boston; friends and family if they knew anything about him knew better than to pass it along to me. I wrote this letter to you when I moved back to Boston after your father died last year. I don't know if Paddy is alive or dead, free or in prison. I know you Tara, and your curiosity, and I know that my warning to leave Paddy Doyle well enough alone will probably be disregarded. I don't know if Paddy's past is still relevant, but I know that his sins run deep and vengeance is a seething passion among men._

_I looked for your sister when I moved back, but the adoption records were closed. I don't even have so much as a first name to go by. If you have more luck than I, the second letter from the box is for her._

_Tara, you were always my joy, and I know that reading this has probably hurt you in immeasurable ways. My greatest concern always was to keep you safe. I hope that knowing that will help you find peace with my decisions._

_My love to you always, my heart, my soul_

_Mam_

Tara slumped down onto the sofa and pulled the worn tapestry throw pillow under her cheek. It felt like every shred of who she thought she was had been ripped from her being. She loved the past. The artifacts of times gone by wove narratives that were the foundation of the known present. What authenticity does the present have absent the guiding orientation from whence it had come? The intersection of time and place, blood and belonging the contemporary identity of a people forged in the molten currents of evolution over time; it had always fascinated her, it's why she pursued a career in ethnohistoriography. And now what? Here she was, a historian, with a fraudulent sense of self. Lies. Betrayed by blood. She pulled the ace bandage off and watched as the ruby liquid pooled in her palm and then breached the edge.

_My life's been a shadow_


	4. Viva

CH 4: Viva

Author's note: The poetry referenced in this chapter is from e.e. cummings' volume "ViVa" first published 1931.

Sleep was much more forthcoming that night for Jane. Her head hit the pillow with Maura's arms wrapped around her and she slept like a stone. That was until her phone rang at 1am.

Jane shot up, slightly disoriented from the abrupt interruption. It took a moment before it dawned on her what the sound was coming from. She fumbled in the dark for the source of the ringing.

"Rizzoli" she slurred.

"Detective Rizzoli, it's Tara Callaghan" her voice was weak.

Hearing Tara's voice had an effect not unlike being doused with cold water, Jane was instantly awake. "Tara, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, I was going to wait until the morning but I couldn't. I…I found something, I don't know if it might have bearing on my mother's murder but I just can't shake it."

Jane turned on the bedside light causing Maura to groan slightly as she shaded her eyes.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at my mother's house."

"Ok, I'll be right over."

"Detective…I hate to ask, but, could you bring some bandages?"

"Wha…are you hurt?" Jane was confused.

"It's…I…had a fairly significant incident with some broken glass, it won't stop bleeding, if you could just bring some bandages, there aren't really any in the house."

Jane looked over at Maura, "Yeah, I might be able to do one better than that. Stay put. I'm on my way."

Jane and Maura arrived at the Callaghan residence; none of the lights in the front of the house were on. Jane naturally placed her hand over her holstered weapon as she rapped on the door. Tara stumbled, lightheaded from her injuries and the now seemingly unbearable emotional baggage, to the front door. She opened it, holding her mangled hand in the air.

"Oh my!" Maura exclaimed. She instinctively reached out and grasped Tara's quivering arm to help keep it elevated, placing her hand on Tara's back she started to guide her back into the house. "Where's the bathroom?"

The bathroom looked like a war zone. Blood drops, small puddles and smears popped noticeably against the white tile, jagged chunks of the broken mirror were strewn around the floor and sink counter like shrapnel.

"An incident with broken glass huh?" Jane quipped as she surveyed the carnage.

Tara looked up at her and said through slow breaths, "Mmhmm, there was another…incident in the sitting room."

Tara grimaced out of reflex as Maura rinsed off the blood, smiling sympathetically "Sorry, I know it must sting."

_It doesn't, I wish I could actually feel it. _Tara watched as water flowed clear from the faucet and washed pink down the drain. _Red…red…rage._

A slew of words began to pour out of her:

"…Walk very therefore and softly among one's own memory but along perhaps the by invisibilities spattered or if it may be so called memory of without more ado about less than nothing two Boston dolls found with holes in each other's lullaby and other lulla wise by unbroken lulla lullaby by the she in him with the he in her…"

Maura and Jane looked at each other perplexed by the seeming stream of nonsense.

Tara tried to come back to reality, "e.e. cummings" she said staring blankly forward then inhaling sharply she shook her head, "Sorry…I…recite poems when I'm upset, it helps me relax."

"Ok Tara, what's going on, what did you find that you think might have bearing on your mother's case?" Jane was a little impatient after being startled from such a good sleep.

"There's a letter…on the sofa in the sitting room" she swayed a little as she spoke, Maura's disinfection of her lacerations were making her feel faint.

"Tara…Tara…stay with me" Maura reached up to steady her face.

Jane walked further into the bathroom, "Is she going to be ok?" she knelt down next to Maura and placed a hand on Tara's knee.

"Some of these cuts are extremely deep, she needs to go to the hospital. She'll need stitches for sure, they'll want to check and see if there's any nerve damage based on the location and depth of some of the cuts" Maura stood up keeping one hand to support Tara's head and the other on her shoulder in case she started to slump over.

Jane sighed, _some night_, "Ok, let me grab this letter she's talking about and then we'll get her to the car."

Maura had tried to keep Tara's hand elevated as she applied compression to the bleeding through a towel. Tara sniffled apologetically into the stranger's shoulder, "I'm sorry" she mumbled repeatedly, "I lost control." By the time they arrived at the hospital Tara was drifting in and out, slumped against Maura in the backseat of Jane's car.

Maura felt compelled to give the nurses a run down of her observations of the injuries. As they wheeled her back into the ER one of the nurses took note of how tightly Tara was clinging to Maura's hand, "You can come back with her" she said. Maura looked at Jane, "Yeah, Maura stay with her I'll go move the car and see if I can rustle up some coffee."

Tara was struggling to stay with it but she forced her eyes open enough to look up and focus on Maura's face. "Your name's Maura?"

"Yes."

Tara managed a slight smile through the haziness, "That's a good Irish name."

Maura smiled back and nodded, "Yes, I suppose it is."

Tara squeezed her hand tighter, "It's said to mean 'bitter' or 'dark,' that doesn't seem to fit you though."

"Ah, but you don't know me very well" Maura laughed as she said it.

"No, I guess not. But, Maura was my grandmother's name. She was a lovely woman. You resemble her a little."

Jane was halfway back to the hospital from parking the car in the innermost bowels of the deck when she realized she'd left Tara's letter sitting in the front seat of the car. _Shit! Whatever's in this letter better be pretty damn good._ She looked at her watch. _2:30am in the damn morning._ She growled. _Nah, who needs sleep? Sleep's overrated._

Jane gingerly drew the ER curtain back and peered in, the doctor had run an IV line and was irrigating the lacerations in preparation for the stitches.

"Maura…I'm gonna get the coffee, do you need a snack or anything?" Maura shook her head no.

The hospital café's coffee was terrible. Jane sniffed at the bitter liquid as she took another long draw from the cup. _Really terrible_. Black and oily, not only was it stale from sitting out for hours it tasted like gym socks. Jane smirked to herself, Maura would have asked her to cite her source for that comment. She pulled out the stained and stressed letter and started reading.

"What the hell!" she shot up from the café chair sending the stale coffee flying like an oil slick across the table. Her heart was pounding; the puzzle pieces came crashing together. The image of Maura kneeling in Margaret Callaghan's bathroom in front of Tara, that nagging sense of resemblance that had been haunting Jane was suddenly perfectly clear. Tara was Maura's sister, Margaret Callaghan, Maura's biological mother. And Doyle. _Goddamn Patrick Doyle_. Jane tapped the letter against her chin. All of her concern shifted to Maura. Not only was she potentially in danger again, this revelation would be life altering, all of the emotion Maura had experienced when Colin showed up on her table, now her biological mother was in her morgue. Jane understood Tara putting her fist through the mirror.

Jane paced the hallway; this wasn't news she looked forward to delivering. She wasn't even sure of a good way to go about it. _Hey Maur, Laila Ali in there, that's your sister. Oh and by the way that means you just autopsied your biological mother the other day. UGH!_

"Jane?"

The sound of Maura's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Hey…" she fiddled with the letter in her jacket pocket. "How's she doing?"

"She'll be fine, they're going to keep her until mid-morning to run fluids. Digital mobility is fine they'll have to wait to see if there's any nerve damage…Jane? What's wrong?"

_Shit. Written all over my face._

Jane pulled out the letter and folded and unfolded it nervously.

"Tara said what's in this letter may have bearing on the case…and I think she could be right. But, I desperately need a cup of half-way decent coffee, so can we maybe hit the diner a couple blocks away and I'll tell you about it?"

The look forming behind Jane's eyes was more than the strained unease from the past couple of days. It was anxiety mixed with fear. Maura had only seen that look a few times, when Hoyt threatened, when Frankie lay on the table in the morgue gasping for breath, the night Jane resolved to tell her parents about their relationship, and now.

The waitress poured two piping hot cups of coffee and set a slice of lemon icebox pie down on the table. Jane fiddled distractingly with the meringue topping.

"Jane?" Maura was growing more concerned.

Jane looked up and sighed, defeated, she had to tell her. She slid out of the booth and joined Maura on the other side, smoothing the letter out on the table she looked into Maura's eyes. They had similar mannerisms, Tara and Maura. They both held eye contact when most other people would look away. They both had strange ways of easing tension, Maura liked to recite facts, Tara…apparently bizarre poetry.

"This is a letter from Margaret Callaghan to Tara. I guess it was in the safety deposit box Tara told me her mother left her," Jane paused, "Maura, in the letter it says that Patrick Doyle is Tara's father."

"Doyle…he's…" Maura's turned her head as her voice trailed away. "You're telling me that woman is my half-sister?" She looked back at Jane, shock and disbelief blanketing her face.

"I…I…think it's more than that" Jane handed Maura the letter to let her read it for herself.

Maura couldn't hold back the surge of emotion; raw and visceral it clawed its way out through searing tears that burned trails down her cheeks. Jane had never seen Maura cry like that so completely consumed by emotion, so perfectly human. Jane was frozen; she wanted to hold Maura but didn't know if Maura wanted to be touched. Maura put the letter down and collapsed into Jane's body shaking as she wrestled futilely to control her sobbing. Jane held her until Maura had nothing left.

Maura fell still. She was all of a sudden acutely aware that she was sobbing uncontrollably into her girlfriend's neck in the middle of a diner in the grey dusk of the breaking dawn. She looked up at Jane.

"I'm sorry…I…lost control."

_They both even apologize for acting like human beings._

Jane reached up to wipe Maura's tears, "It's ok, it's…you're not a robot Maura, you're allowed to cry at this, it's a lot to get slapped with. Come here." She leaned forward kissing Maura's forehead and pulling her into another embrace. She kissed Maura's temple and exhaled.

Maura clung desperately to Jane's back, "Do you think this is some sort of revenge killing…to get at Doyle?"

Jane paused, that was absolutely what she thought, but Maura was already saddled with so much without the possibility that her life could be in danger…again. "I think it's…an avenue we'll have to pursue, but, there's always the chance it could just be some insane coincidence."

"Don't lie to me" Maura pulled back, "You've had a feeling about this case since…well, since before you even had the case."

"Dr. Maura Isles, scientist extraordinaire is putting stock in a gut feeling? I think I just won a bet!" Jane was trying to lighten the mood.

Maura's eyes softened, she reached down and took Jane's hand in her own and squeezed it; "I trust _**your**_gut feeling Jane."

Jane opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came. In a way, Maura's trust in her intuition was one of the highest compliments that she could pay. It was the very essence of Maura stepping outside of her comfort zone. It struck at the heart of her professional integrity and her methodological worldview. Their relationship was in many ways a perfect symmetry; in love and emotion a balance of give and take, strength and vulnerability, they each shifted back and forth across those lines as required to maintain a unique equilibrium. Maura made Jane realize she didn't always have to be dominant. The same applied to their work lives, the harmonious counterweight of Maura's pragmatic rationalistic application of science and technology to Jane's raw instinctual evaluation of human behavior and motivation. Two styles with the endless potential to butt rigidly against one another had long ago developed a porous line of demarcation conducive to the flexible sharing of control. Jane made Maura realize that feelings could point in directions science sometimes couldn't.

Jane nodded, and Maura knew.

"Will you go with me back to the hospital?" Maura asked, for some reason, unsure.

"Of course."

They walked the few blocks back mostly in silence, Jane's arm wrapped around Maura's shoulder holding her close to her body in the brisk night air, Maura's arm around Jane's waist. The subtle glow from the streetlights cast down on them; their shadows walked as one against the brick backdrop. Maura watched the shadows, fading, losing the battle as rays of sunlight started creeping in.

"As out from behind nowhere creeps the deep thing everybody sometimes calls morning."

Jane looked at her questioningly.

"e.e. cummings" Maura replied.


	5. Shadow Box

CH 5: Shadow Box

Maura stood at Tara's bedside, her arms folded across her chest looking down at the sleeping woman. She was cataloguing her features, noting all the similarities she'd been remiss at picking up on before Jane gave her the letter.

Jane walked up behind her; wrapping her arms around Maura as she rested her chin on the shorter woman's shoulder. She softly kissed her neck. "What are you thinking?"

Maura tilted her head to let it rest against Jane's, "You said after you first met her she reminded you of something…or…someone. Well?"

"Hmm…" Jane smiled as she straightened up, she brushed a bit of Maura's hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear and placed another kiss on her cheek, "…I'd say you two look a lot alike, more so than you and Colin did."

"How do we…how do I…tell her? Maybe, she doesn't even want to know who her sister is. She read that letter and she punched out a mirror." Maura turned around to face Jane.

Jane couldn't really imagine what it must have felt like for Maura growing up, being adopted wanting to know where she came from but not being able to, nor could she even fathom waking up one day as an adult to find out that one of her parents wasn't really her biological parent.

"She'll want to know. She may have lost her mother, but she'll gain a sister."

Jane walked into the morgue; she was exhausted but also driven by the night's discovery. It wasn't just about solving Margaret Callaghan's murder in the name of justice anymore. Maura's lab tech was busy on one of the computers; he had his headphones on and didn't hear her enter. She walked up behind him and yanked the ear bud out.

"Detective!"

It occurred to Jane she'd seen the tech several times a week for God knows how long and she didn't even know his name. She glanced down at his ID badge hanging from the pocket of his lab coat.

"Uh…John, Dr. Isles sent this sample, she needs you to prep the DNA and send it off for analysis with a sample from Margaret Callaghan. She'll run the necessary comparative analyses on the samples when the results come in."

Jane made her way back upstairs and into the squad room.

"Frost, Korsak, I need to speak with you…is interview 1 open?"

The three detectives made their way into the interview room; Jane closed the door. She sat down on the table with a big exhale as she rubbed at her eyes.

"Geez Rizzoli, you look like hell" Korsak offered.

"Gee, thanks Korsak, you spend the entire night in the damn ER and come to work straight from there and see how bright eyed and bushy tailed you look."

Frost jumped in, "The hospital? Is everything ok?"

"Tara Callaghan called at 1am said she found something that might have bearing on the case, Maura and I got to the house and she'd gone WWE on a bathroom mirror and a wine class with her fist. Had to take her to the ER for stitches."

"So…" Frost started to interject.

"Oh this is a doozy…" Jane continued, "…you might need to sit down for this. Turns out Margaret Callaghan leaves Tara a letter in a safety deposit box telling her Patrick Doyle is her real father."

"What!" Korsak exclaimed, "You're shittin' us."

"I shit you not" Jane pulled out the letter and tossed it to her old partner.

Korsak looked up, "Does Dr. Isles know?"

Jane rolled her eyes, "No, I completely forgot to mention it. Of course she knows I told her right after I read the letter myself. She's at the hospital with Tara right now, they should be releasing her sometime this morning."

"But, what does this really give us, we've got no DNA, no prints, no witnesses. So now, it may be one of Doyle's enemies, well that really narrows it down."

"Well, Frost…it's more than we had before. Hold on…" Jane answered her phone.

"Maura…ok, take her to my apartment."

The day plugged on, there was more work than just the Callaghan case. When Jane's phone rang around 6pm with Maura's name on the caller ID she realized she hadn't even seen her since she left the hospital early that morning.

"Hey Maur…I'm about ready to head home…you?"

"Jane…" Maura's voice was hollow, "…I need you in the morgue."

Jane rushed downstairs, she didn't see anyone in the morgue, "Maura!"

"Jane" Maura emerged from her office.

"What's going…" Jane didn't need to finish the sentence, emerging out of the shadowy corner of Maura's office was Patrick Doyle.

_Oh, well, this just gets better and better._

"What are you doing here?" Jane asked indignantly stepping forward and placing herself slightly in front of Maura and thus between her and Doyle.

Doyle eyed the detective. In appearance she was everything his sources had said she was, a curious amalgam of masculine femininity, slightly unkempt, but a striking form nonetheless. Her temperament was as described as well, forward, aggressive…protective, he observed as Maura stepped up closer behind Jane the detective's arm flared out to block her forward progress but settled gently to rest on Maura's arm.

Maura placed her hand on Jane's arm and moved it down as she laced her fingers through Jane's. "Jane, he won't hurt me."

Doyle again surveyed the image in front of him. "Hmm" he muttered under his breath. _So, that observation is true as well._

"I want to see her" he said, breaking the silence.

Doyle stood, looking down at Margaret Callaghan's body; he reached out and lightly ran the back of his hand over her cheek. Jane recalled Maura saying Doyle had a tenderness about him, but she wouldn't have believed it had she never seen the man now standing over his old love as a tear glistened in the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this" he said looking up at Maura.

"It didn't; none of it had to be this way. You could have told me who she was. I've lived my whole life in the shadows, knowing nothing about my past, always asking is that man in the grocery store my father, the woman at the bank my mother? And then I find out, my father is a crime boss, a murderer…and now…" Maura looked down at her mother's body as the emotion seethed behind her eyes.

"You are so much like her, I've only done what I thought would keep you safe, Maura. I may be many things, a criminal, a murderer, yes, and I will face a final reckoning for my transgressions one day. But, never let it be said that I didn't love you and your mother because I always have and I always will. All of this to shield you from a life that's come to haunt you anyway. I thought I was protecting her, protecting you. But I failed. So, no more secrets…"

"No more secrets" Maura repeated. _Too little, too late._

Doyle nodded, "Margaret had another daughter…"

"Yes, I know. Jane do you have the letter with you?" Jane nodded and handed the letter to Doyle.

They watched as Doyle read the letter, and as a look of genuine surprise spread over his face.

"You…really didn't know?" Maura asked.

Doyle shook his head no. "But that means you're both in danger."

Jane's voice was gruff from stress and exhaustion, "We have no leads."

"I have people on the street with their ears to the ground." Doyle's mannerisms changed as he said it, how easily he danced back and forth across the line from normal grief to vengeance.

"No, no! Not this way, not again!" Maura looked back and forth between Jane and Doyle, "We don't need your help, and I don't need your protection."

Doyle couldn't help the slight smirk, _just like your mother_, "I hadn't planned to offer you my protection. You made it abundantly clear last time your thoughts on that. Besides, I trust Detective Rizzoli is more than willing and capable of keeping you safe."

Doyle walked across the morgue to the loading bay doors; he paused turning around, "What's her name?"

"Tara, her name is Tara…like the mythical seat of the High King of Ireland" Maura replied lapsing into her comfort mechanism of fact reporting.

Doyle put his hands in his pocket and laughed a little under his breath, "Actually…Gone With the Wind…it was your mother's favorite movie." With that he slipped into the dark loading bay and out into the evening.

Maura didn't get out of the car immediately when they pulled up at Jane's apartment.

"Maura?" Jane reached over and put her hand on Maura's shoulder.

Maura turned to look at her, "There's something I need to know…"

"Ok?"

"I didn't press the issue before, but, when I asked who tipped Doyle off on Tommy O'Rourke, and you said it wasn't you…were you honest with me?"

Jane didn't hesitate, "I was; I didn't make that call. Maura, I respect your integrity but I'm…quite frankly I'm terrified that I _**can't**_ keep you safe…and if something were to…"

Maura placed her hands on Jane's face, "I love you" she whispered pulling Jane into a kiss their lips crashing together driven by passion, fear, seeking comfort. Her tongue explored Jane's mouth, the warmth and contact was a relief. She started to break the moment but Jane bit down lightly on her lower lip to hold her there, lingering, their breath lightly teasing each other. Jane let her go, smiling as she gazed into Maura's eyes, "I love you too."

"I haven't told her yet" Maura said as they walked down the hall to Jane's apartment. Jane gave her hand a squeeze.

"No time like the present right? Just…umm, make sure there aren't any breakables within arm's reach when you do it."

"Maybe a should don some of your protective hockey gear" Maura laughed.

Tara was sitting on the sofa reading when they entered. Jane took her cue and went to shower.

"How are you feeling?" Maura asked as she took a seat next to Tara.

"Much better…" Tara chuckled, "…But, I owe you and Detective Rizzoli a huge apology for last night, calling you out in the middle of the night. I'm sure you read the letter, it probably has nothing to do with my mother's murder…I…I don't even have words for what I felt when I read that. I've never been so angry and confused in my life. My father wasn't my "father" and apparently I have a sister out there…somewhere."

Maura took a deep breath, _No time like the present_, "She's not…out there…"

Tara's brow wrinkled with confusion.

Maura continued, "…she's…right here." She almost couldn't get the words out.

Tara couldn't stop the tears, "You're…you…?" They sat for a moment just staring at each other until Tara leaned forward to take Maura into an embrace. When they parted Maura offered Tara her hands.

"I learned Doyle was my father last year, he had a son that was murdered and I discovered the relationship when I ran the DNA. He wouldn't tell me who my mother was though. When Jane and I read the letter, I knew."

Tara took a deep breath, "Do you know what the worst part of all of this was? You would think it would be how she died, but it's not. It's that sense of loneliness, so heavy I felt like I was being crushed by it. Sitting in her house, vacant, that emptiness was claustrophobic; I know that probably doesn't make sense. The people closest to me in my life, they're all gone now, my grandparents, my parents, my brother was killed in Iraq two years ago. I'm an adult, but it made me feel like an orphan."

Maura knew exactly how Tara felt, "I've felt alone most of my life. There were always people around but I was never able to connect with them, not even with my adoptive parents, maybe least of all with them. I thought I might feel like that forever, but then I met Jane and I finally felt like I had a place and…now I have a sister, I always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. I'd like to get to know you, if you're interested in getting to know me." Maura smiled.

Tara gave her sister's hands a squeeze, "Very much so."

Tara got up and retrieved the box from her duffel bag. "In the letter to me, Mam mentioned a letter for you, should I find you, well, here you are…" she handed the sealed letter to Maura. "You should have this too" she ran her fingers over the gold filigree bracelet before taking Maura's hand and sliding the cuff on.

"No…you should keep this…" Maura began to protest.

"It was my grandmother's…our grandmother's"

"You said her name was Maura?"

Tara nodded as she pulled out the matching silver cuff, "There are two, I think they would both want you to have one."

Maura twisted the bracelet around on her wrist. "Would you mind if I went back to the bedroom to read this?"

"Of course not."

Maura walked back to the bedroom, Jane was sitting on top of the covers leafing through a magazine. Maura dropped the letter on the bed and undressed down to her underwear uncharacteristically leaving her clothes lying in the floor. Rooting through one of Jane's drawers she pulled out an old Red Sox t-shirt and slipped it on; it was like having Jane all around her. She sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Well?" Jane sat up placing one hand on Maura's thigh as the other caressed her lower back.

Maura smiled resting her hand on top of Jane's. "It went fine, I think she was actually relieved. Nothing's broken. That's the letter my mother wrote me. I don't know that I'm ready to read it yet though."

Jane slid forward running her hand through Maura's hair, "Then leave it til morning." She wrapped her arms around Maura's waist and pulled her over her body onto the bed. She leaned over Maura stroking her face, "It's been a long day." Maura nodded. Jane kissed her as her hand snaked under the t-shirt kneading at Maura's ribs and then moving higher to glide teasingly over her breasts before resting in the space in between. Maura could feel the tension draining out of her body and Jane could feel Maura's excited heartbeat start to calm. She reached under the shirt to take Jane's hand and brought it up to her mouth kissing the scarred palm. Jane cradled Maura's head in the crook of her other arm and nestled into her side as she nuzzled her neck.

"Thank you" Maura said.

"For what" Jane whispered.

Maura rolled over winding her legs through Jane's and pulling her close, "For filling the emptiness."


	6. Symphony of Echoes

CH 6: Symphony of Echoes

When Maura opened her eyes she was fairly certain she had only just closed them, but the soft light simmering in the room through the open curtains begged to differ. She moved her face against the soft skin of Jane's chest as a slight jab of pain shot up through her neck. She'd slept the whole night with Jane's arm under her head; _my neck will pay for that today_, she thought. Maura rolled deftly over onto her side trying not to disturb her sleeping lover. It was then she spied the letter still on the bed where she had dropped it the previous night. _Sigh_. _Why am I afraid of those words? What could possibly be worse than everything I've already been through?_

She brought her hand up to her mouth and bit down nervously on her thumbnail before sliding her hand purposefully slow across the sheets, taking in the cotton texture, the rise and falls created by the feather topper to draw the letter back to her. Jane's arms tightened around her midsection and chest. Maura smiled, invigorated by the closeness, the beautifully sculpted tan arms that were cinched around her were so many things, strong, comforting, passionate…yet delicate. Maura loved Jane's arms. She held the letter for a while turning it over and over in her hands, running her fingers around the dull edges. She smelled it; it had a musty odor, like the pages of an old book long unopened.

"Are you gonna open it?" Jane breathed huskily into Maura's hair, moving in closer to more fully round her body around Maura's.

The question was followed by the sound of Maura's fingernail meticulously sliding through the ivory paper separating the time-worn flap from the envelope.

"Do you need to be alone for this?" Jane asked placing a tender kiss on the back of Maura's neck.

Maura reached up to stroke the strong forearm that had been threaded under her neck, across her chest and was now stroking and massaging her shoulder. "No, please stay."

The first thing she noticed was her mother's impeccable cursive handwriting. It made her smile, something they had in common. She had often been teased, jokingly she had originally thought, in medical school because her handwriting was too pretty, not "doctorly" enough. One of the men in her class had once quipped, "Damn Maura, you want the patients to be able to _**read**_ their prescriptions? Where's the fun in that?" The class had all laughed. She had replied, "I don't think the dead will be needing any prescriptions, but I assume the lawyers, law enforcement officers and other medical and legal personnel would like to be able to read the pathology reports." They hadn't laughed at that. Shortly after she'd caught wind of her new nickname: Dr. Moreau. It puzzled her at first, Dr. Moreau of the H.G. Wells novel performed vivisection on animals, turning them into beast men. She failed to see any correlation between the novel and her aspirations at pursuing a career in forensic pathology. One of the few classmates she had a somewhat friendly relationship with explained to her one day that the name had been generated because of her last name "Isles" and her first name "Maura" complimenting the book's full title, The Island of Dr. Moreau. It made slightly more sense to her then, only slightly, she wondered if her classmates had even read the book. _Who would have thought police detectives would have been far more logical in their choice of nickname…Queen of the Dead._

As she finished the letter it struck her that she wasn't crying. Given all of the emotional upheaval of the past few days it seemed almost anti-climactic. The letter didn't seem to tell her anything new. She folded the pages and slipped them back inside the envelope.

"Well?" Jane asked.

"I'm not crying" came Maura's puzzled reply.

"I can hear that…or, not hear that…"

"Shouldn't I be crying?" Maura sat up still holding the letter.

Jane ran her hand under Maura's shirt and let her fingernails scratch lightly in long fluid strokes up and down Maura's back.

"Not necessarily, you might not cry now or ever again about this, or in a few minutes or hours you may be sobbing your eyes out. There's no prescribed normal reaction for all of this. Just let the moment be what it is."

Maura smiled and turned her head to look at Jane before leaning down to clasp Jane's face in her hands, running her thumbs across Jane's cheekbones she gave her a chaste kiss, "I like that."

Maura tiptoed out of the bedroom not sure if Tara was awake but the sound of clinking dishes signaled that she was. Tara was in the kitchen preparing to cook breakfast. Maura took a seat at Jane's bar counter.

"I'm sorry I disappeared after we talked last night, I think all of the exhaustion caught up with me and I fell flat asleep" Maura said as she fidgeted with the salt and pepper shakers on the counter.

"No, it's fine. This is…really out of the blue for both of us; some time to process it all was probably beneficial. How do you take your eggs?" Tara smiled as she held up two large brown eggs.

Maura let out a little laugh, "Umm, how can you cook them?"

"Anyway you like, I took a few cooking classes for fun in high school and college in the culinary program at the Illinois Institute of Art in Chicago and then in Dublin when I was there doing my graduate work."

"In the letter to me, our mother mentioned you were a historian? And that you had written a book on the family's genealogy?" _Our mother_, it sounded strange to Maura as the words came out and she hoped it didn't offend Tara.

But, Tara wasn't offended, in fact she smiled, "Historian, yes, of sorts, I have a PhD in history my focus is on ethnohistoriography and I also worked some archaeology into my course plan. I've focused my research on Irish history and culture, in particular the Irish diaspora in America. After grad school I started full time with the Irish American Heritage Museum in Albany, NY. Now I work with the Ellis Island Foundation and the American Family Immigration History Center. I still work on exhibits and programs with the IAHM and I'm also certified with the American Association of Professional Genealogists."

"Wow, that's quite a resume!" Maura responded.

The compliment made Tara somewhat bashful, she looked down at the oil starting to bubble in the pan, "Everyone always told me I was an overachiever, but, I love what I do. So, it doesn't seem like work."

Maura felt instantly connected, "I know what that feels like."

"But, yes I did do a complete family history of mother's side, it was a personal project; just a labor of love I guess. I'd be happy to send you a copy when I get back home. I was going to start soon on the same for my father's side…well…" Tara's smile faded.

"I'd love a copy. And I'll take my eggs over-medium." Maura tried to distract Tara from the sadness that familial revelation brought.

The sizzle and crack of bacon and the wafting odor soon lured Jane out of the bedroom.

"Whoa, breakfast! Maura, I think I like your sister, can we keep her?"

Tara laughed, "It's my favorite meal of the day, but I don't cook a full breakfast often, one egg just looks silly in the skillet all by itself."

"That's why you should just fix yourself two" Jane said with a sly smile as she crunched into a piece of bacon.

No sooner had Jane and Maura left for work than Tara pulled out her cell phone.

"Kieran? It's Tara…yeah I've been in Boston since Mam was...Well, you know. Look let's forego the pleasantries, cuz, am I right to assume you being on the up and up and towing the straight line is just a story Uncle Manus has been feeding the family? I assumed as much. What do you know about a Patrick Doyle?"

Tara paced around Jane's apartment most of the morning and afternoon. She'd been given explicit instructions not to leave, for her safety. _For my safety, to hell with safety, as the great Herodotus said, "The worst pain a man can suffer, is to have insight into much and power over nothing," I'm not going to be some prisoner to Patrick Doyle's past._

Finally, her phone rang, "Kieran? Good, come pick me up."

Tara milled nervously around the apartment before sitting on the sofa and rifling through her wallet. She pulled out a small laminated card:

_Every conquering temptation represents a new fund of moral energy. Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before. ~ William Butler Yeats_

"Well said, Mr. Yeats" she ran her fingers over the smooth plastic. Her phone rang again. Tara gathered her purse and a few items and headed out of Jane Rizzoli's apartment to meet her cousin waiting in the car. She paused in the hallway and looked back at the apartment door.

"Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking."


	7. Upside Down

**A fast update, thoughts of this chapter were torturing me and I just had to get it out. There is mild violence as a warning.**

**Thanks for all the R&Rs I appreciate all the comments.**

CH 7 Upside Down

Tara slid into the passenger's side of the waiting sedan. Kieran was her father's brother's son. In light of new revelations that meant he wasn't really her first cousin. But, Kieran had always been the family's black sheep. He was always mixed up with the wrong crowds, in and out of jail for petty crimes, nothing major yet – at least, he hadn't been caught for anything major yet. He'd been shot once, in the knee, the hallmark warning of the Irish crime syndicate transported to America from the motherland. It gave him a permanent limp. He'd been shot at…well, the family stopped asking for the count. If you need to find a criminal, you have to call a criminal.

"Kieran" Tara stated matter of factly. She didn't like Kieran; she never had, not even as kids when he had come to visit in Chicago. But, if he could find Paddy Doyle, she'd deal with him.

"Tara, everyone's real upset about Aunt Maggie…" Tara nodded as her cousin continued, "…How do you even know of Paddy Doyle? Does he have something to do with Aunt Maggie's death? I mean, are you sure about this, trying to find him?"

"It's personal, and yes I'm sure."

Two men sat in a black Monte Carlo on the opposite side of the street. When Tara had exited the apartment building one of them held up a cell phone and scrolled through the photo album stored on its sim card. He looked at the passenger next to him and showed him the photo. "Looks like her to me."

The area of South Boston was visually unfamiliar to Tara. She hadn't grown up in Boston and remembered visiting only a few times throughout her childhood and last year when her father had died and was brought back to Boston to be buried. The area was, however very well known to her for it's history as a working-class Irish neighborhood and had been referenced of course in numerous Hollywood films.

They pulled up in front of a non-descript looking house. Kieran gripped the steering wheel nervously flexing his fingers out and then curling them back around the rubber wheel. He looked over at Tara.

"Well…I mean, this is the place my buddy gave me. What are you going to do?"

Tara looked at her cousin, "I'm going to go knock on the door."

Kieran laughed, "Right, knock knock, hi, yeah I need to see Patrick Doyle. Jesus Christ Tara, you must be insane."

"Well what the hell did you think I was going to do when I told you to get me the information?"

Kieran ran a hand nervously over his face, "Fuck I don't know, hoped you'd come to your senses before we got here I guess."

Tara stepped out of the car and headed up the walk. She was starting to question her sanity. But she banged on the door anyway.

A short, wiry fellow in his mid to late 40s answered the door. He had black hair and blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across his worn face. He also sported a jagged scar that ran from the corner of his eye down his cheek clean to his jawbone.

"Who the fuck are you?" He spewed bitingly eyeing Tara.

"I was told I might find Patrick Doyle here."

The man laughed hysterically, a taller and much more brutish man soon appeared behind him. The shorter man looked up at what was clearly the muscle, "Get this Liam, this little colleen here is asking about a Patrick Doyle."

The larger man now filled the doorway, his voice boomed, "Well, you must be mistaken, we don't know any Patrick Doyle here." He started to shut the door but Tara swung her arm out defiantly to block it.

"I think you do. And I have an idea how this works…" She handed the muscle an old photograph. "…Tell him Margaret Callaghan's daughter is looking for him, my number's on the back." With that Tara turned and rejoined her cousin in the car. They paused for a moment as the door to the house was shut. It didn't reopen, so they left.

"Do you think your parents would mind if we brought Tara to gnocchi night this weekend?" Maura asked as she and Jane approached the apartment door.

"Heh, no, you know Ma loves cooking for people and I think Frankie might enjoy that as well" Jane offered with a sly wink.

Maura laughed, "But Jane, we don't even know if she's single."

They paused at the door as Jane fumbled with her key chain, she held up her left hand and waggled her fingers, "No ring and this morning she said she doesn't cook breakfast often because one egg looks silly in the skillet by itself. She's single."

"Here, use mine" Maura said thrusting her key into the lock, "I don't know why you have so many ke…" The lock didn't turn over because the door was unlocked. Maura looked at Jane, her eyes wide. Jane already had her weapon drawn. "I know I locked it this morning when we left" Maura said as Jane grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the door.

Other than the sound of Jo's greeting bark the apartment was eerily silent. Jane led the way through the apartment, back to the bedroom and the bathroom but Tara was nowhere to be found.

Tara's cell rang as Kieran pulled up to Jane's apartment. She didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Is this Tara?" It was a man's voice, gruff but seemingly pleasant.

"It is."

"This is Patrick Doyle."

Tara looked at Kieran as her heart started thumping wildly in her chest, "Do you know who I am?" she asked a genuine air of uncertainty in her voice.

"I do. We can meet, but it has to be on MY terms."

"Ok."

" I know where you're staying. Can you meet me in one hour?"

Tara looked at her watch, "Yes."

"Walk two blocks east, turn left. Bring your sister and your phone but nothing else. Do not bring the cop. Myself and some associates will be there to meet you, we can go somewhere private. I imagine we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, I think we do…one hour?"

"One hour." Click.

Tara checked her watch again as she bounded up the stairs to the apartment. _Shit, they're sure to be home by now._

She opened the door to the sight of Jane Rizzoli's gun barrel leveled at her. It made her blood run cold. Jane lowered the gun but was on Tara in a fury.

"What part of stay fucking put did you fail to understand!"

"Jane!" Maura exclaimed at a near shout, a note of chastisement in her voice. It caused Jane to pause and turn around to look at her. "Don't yell at her!" Jane was taken aback. _Is she defending her?_ She looked from Maura to Tara and back.

"My cousin, Kieran picked me up" Tara offered knowing it wouldn't satisfy the detective.

"Oh your cousin picked you up, so you leave, no note, no call, my fucking apartment unlocked and off you go galavanting around Boston and you have no fucking idea what might be out there or who might be following you back here, are you a goddamn idiot!"

"Jane!" Maura barked; her eyes darted back and forth between the two women.

Tara could feel the heat rising inside her she took a step towards Jane, "No I'm not a goddamn idiot and I'm not a child or a fucking prisoner and I'll go where I damn well please, when I damn well please. This is MY life!" Tara held Jane's furious stare throughout the tirade, her pale skin was flushed crimson and her eyes glistened a menacing shade of green.

Jane wasn't used to being matched, her fists were clenched as she took a step towards Tara, "It's not just YOUR life if you do something that could threaten HER life!" she gestured wildly towards Maura.

Maura was on the verge of hyperventilating, she felt like a bystander to what was going on before her, Tara had revealed she could be brought to the point of punching out her frustration and Jane's body language was becoming increasingly aggressive.

"That's ENOUGH!" Maura really yelled this time; with all the force she could muster, stamping her foot simultaneously.

A green pair and brown pair of eyes stared at her, mouths slightly open. Maura moved forward positioning herself between them, she faced Jane. "You need to go cool off."

"Me! She…" Jane was interrupted by Maura shaking her head; "She's my sister; I'll handle this."

"Your sister? You barely even know her" Jane said between gritted teeth as she wheeled around and headed for the bedroom so quickly she didn't see the hurt in Maura's eyes.

Tara explained her whereabouts and the meeting and Maura began to wonder if her defense of her sister might have been unwarranted after all.

"I don't know…" Maura said, looking in Tara's eyes though she could see the determination. "I understand why you want to meet him, I do…but I think Jane's right, a better time might be when the case is solved, when we know for sure there's no danger."

"And what if the case is never solved?"

Maura sighed, "Jane will solve the case, just give it more time…"

"No…no more time, no more waiting in the shadows, no more wondering, no more topsy turvy upside fucking down. I need this. And I'll go, with or without you" Tara was stern, frank, she left no doubt in Maura's mind that she would walk out that door alone. Maura went to approach Jane.

Tara could hear arguing coming from the bedroom.

Maura wiped the tears that were running down her face, "Jane, why are you acting like this?"

"Because she's been your 'sister' for 24 hours and you're ready to run out in the night for some fool hardy family reunion."

Maura cocked her head and placed her hands on her hips, "I see…is this really about my safety or is this some kind of territorial display? Are you jealous of her?"

"What! Jealous? No! Of course this is about your safety. The other night you told me you trusted my gut, well it's telling me this is a bad idea."

Maura's face softened, she glanced down and then back at Jane, "I do trust you, but I also need to do this…I will call and check in with you."

"Whatever" Jane snapped as she slammed the bathroom door behind her.

As they rounded the corner two blocks down, Jane's gut feeling started to nag at Maura. But she pushed it down and continued. They could see a shadowy figure not too far ahead, as they neared it was possible to make out some of the man's features. Maura began to slow and she reached out and placed her hand on Tara's arm.

"That's not Doyle." She tried to reverse and pull Tara with her but suffocating arms were flung around her covering her mouth before she had a chance. Maura tried to scream but the hand clenched tighter, strong fingers digging into her skin, the hand smelled like motor oil. Maura's body froze with fear; she didn't even try to move as she was carted towards a large van. Tara wasn't as compliant; she struggled furiously in the grip of her assailant flailing as much as she had freedom to. Maura saw a third man emerge from the passenger's side of the van, he had a gun and he cracked Tara across the head with it. She fell limp.

A damp rag covered Maura's nose, her pupil's dialated and a white flash turned to darkness.


	8. Pater Familias

**Note:** This chapter does contain a depiction of violence in an abduction scenario, I don't consider it gratuitous but I'm putting this note here as warning for anyone who may find such content objectionable. I know the story has gotten dark, but stick it out with me and I promise it's not going to be this dark forever! I appreciate all the R&Rs.

**CH 8: Pater Familias**

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

The rhythmic sound of water dripping into a puddle filled Maura's ears as she started to come to. Her eyes fluttered, heavy, they felt weighted she couldn't get them to open yet. The drumming of her heartbeat joined the melody of the water droplets. The air was damp and musty; it reeked of mildew. She finally willed her eyes open but was met with severe disorientation, Maura groaned trying to control the inevitable but she couldn't, she turned her head and vomited violently.

Her hair was now plastered across her face; she coughed and sputtered trying to get the taste out of her mouth and throat. Vomiting always made her eyes water, the warm tears left chilly trails down her cheeks as they clashed with the cool air of…wherever she was.

She tried to bring her arms forward but met resistance; they were bound, behind her back. She sought out her hitching post with her hands, it was a pipe, thick, her fingertips didn't even meet as she wrapped them around it. Maura strained against it, jerking and twisting testing the rope's tensile strength. She was tied tight and the rope was strong. She tried opening her eyes again. The disorientation was fading.

It was a basement. Or a room in a basement. There were no windows, only a single light bulb hanging, wires exposed from the ceiling. Grey cinderblock walls and a concrete floor. Some plumbing pipes were the source of the dripping; a small puddle had formed in the corner opposite her.

"Tara! Tara!" Maura called out, Tara was lying across the room, unconscious, also tethered to what looked like an old radiator. Blood was smeared across her face where she had been pistol-whipped.

In a room above the basement Tara's phone rang. A man answered it, "You have reached Tara Callaghan's phone, may I ask who's calling?"

There was a pause before the man on the other end replied, "Who is this?"

"Ah, now see that depends on if you are Paddy Doyle or not."

Another pause, "You have my daughter?"

The man laughed, "Daughters, Doyle…daughters. And they're gonna cost you."

Patrick Doyle gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"There will be plenty of time for pleasantries later, for now, I'm going to enjoy spending some quality time with your daughters much the same as I'm sure you did with my brother and son. Don't try this number again. I'll be in touch." Click.

Jane paced the apartment like a caged animal; she tried dialing Maura's number again. It went straight to voicemail.

"GODDAMMIT!" She yelled grabbing a water glass and chucking it across the kitchen sending it exploding in a fury of crystal shards against a cabinet door.

"I shouldn't have let her go! I shouldn't have let her go! FUCK!" Jane grabbed fistfuls of her hair as she continued to pace erratically. _Something's wrong, she should have called. Get a grip Rizzoli, get a grip, think, think!_

A knock on the door.

Jane bolted to it, flinging it open to the sight of Patrick Doyle. Her heart stopped.

"Where is she!" Jane all but screamed in Doyle's face as she reached out and snatched at his shirt collar. She pulled Doyle in the apartment slamming the door shut.

"Something's happened to her, what is it! Tell me!" Doyle could see the panic in the detective's face.

Doyle was strangely calm; he reached up and pried Jane's hands off his shirt. "Declan Donegal has them; I don't know where."

Hearing a name snapped Jane back to reality. _A name, a name we can work with._ "Ok, if you know who, I'll get down to the station and we'll…" Jane started to turn to gather her things but Doyle's hand was like a vice on her arm.

"You'll get down to the station and you'll get them both killed" He stared hard into her eyes. "Do you understand me? Cops start sniffing out Donegal and he'll kill them."

"How do you know, it's this Declan Donegal?"

"The Donegal family and I have always been on opposite sides. Something he said on the phone about having a brother and a son. I'm responsible for the death of Declan's brother Gerry and his son Jim."

Jane walked over to the couch, sinking down onto it, "What does he want?"

Doyle was deadpan, "Don't ask that question, you won't like the answer."

Jane shot up off the couch, "That son of a bitch has my girlfriend! Don't you tell me what I can and can't ask now what the hell does he want!"

"To hurt me. To cause me as much pain as possible by inflicting pain on those he knows I care the most about. Then, he'll want me."

"So, man up, save him the trouble and give yourself to him…for Maura and Tara" Jane hissed.

Doyle eyed the detective and shook his head, "If only it were that simple. If he has me, he'll kill them, most likely make me watch while he does it. At least for awhile, if I'm still loose, they stay alive."

Tara started to regain consciousness. She felt the cold grit of the concrete floor under her cheek and a sharp pain running through her shoulders from the strain of lying down with how her arms were tied.

"Ow" she mumbled. She felt a hot pulsing sensation in her head. She opened her eyes.

"Maura?" she could see her sister across the room.

Maura opened her eyes, "Tara…are you ok?"

Tara strained against the rope that she was bound by; she tried to look up and over her shoulder to glimpse her restraints. Pressing her feet against the radiator she attempted to use all the force her legs could muster to wrest herself free, to no avail. She growled out of frustration.

"My head hurts, Maura are you ok?"

"You took a nasty blow to the head, you might have a concussion. I'm fine."

Tara sighed, struggling again against the rope. It was futile. "I'm sorry Maura, this is all my fault. It should just be me here, not you. I'm so sorry."

The door to the room swung open and Declan Donegal sauntered in. He set a chair down in front of Maura and took a seat. Across the room Tara hoisted herself into a sitting position.

Donegal placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to go eye to eye with Maura. He'd probably been a handsome man in his younger days. Brown hair but with a tint of auburn and blue eyes. He had a scar transecting his left eyebrow and his nose gave away the tell tale signs of having been broken, probably numerous times.

"Your father sends his regards."

"He's not our father" Maura responded coolly, but defiantly. She wasn't expecting nor prepared for the blow that landed across her face.

She inhaled and exhaled frantically, trying to stifle the urge to burst into tears, an iron taste filled her mouth and when she parted her clenched lips blood and saliva spilled out.

"Don't you fucking touch her you asshole!" Tara shouted from across the room, jerking and straining against the radiator once again not out of any real hope to break the bindings but just for the sake of moving. Donegal and the man standing in the door laughed. He walked over towards Tara.

"I like this one" he said looking at the man in the doorway, who nodded. He knelt down in front of her "She's got spirit…fight…like…her…" he looked over at Maura, "…father." Tara took his momentary distraction as an opportunity, she swung her leg out sweeping Donegal's legs out from under him; he landed on his back his head with a thud against the concrete. Tara brought all the force with the heel of her boot she could muster down on his chest.

Maura gasped as Donegal leapt almost immediately to his feet and sent his elbow flying into the side of Tara's head. She went limp.

Maura trembled uncontrollably as Donegal walked back over and took a seat again in the chair in front of her. He pulled out a switchblade and lightly spun the tip against one of his fingers. Maura eyed the blade and then locked eyes with Donegal again.

"You know, this is all too perfect. Do you know how long I've waited for my moment to do to Paddy Doyle what he did to me?" he reached in his pocket and pulled out a photo and began to point out the figures in it, "This is me, my brother Gerry, my son Jimmy. Five years ago your father killed them and I've been looking for the perfect way to bring that pain to him ever since. Tommy O'Rourke beat me to your brother; we didn't know about you of course, knew Paddy and Margaret had a daughter and that they gave her up but didn't know who you were. Then lo and behold, cat's outta the bag. Then Margaret Callaghan moves back to Boston, Paddy's old love. Her husband's died and so we start fleecing some of the Callaghan side for info on Margaret. Turns out, there's some loose lips in the family. Thomas Callaghan's sister Mary, well, she's a talkative drunk turns out. Lets it slide Margaret and Tommy's daughter is really Margaret and Paddy's daughter. I damn near danced a fucking jig. I think you see where this is going."

Donegal placed the blade flat against Maura's cheek. She cut her eyes towards it, as tears started rolling down and over the blade. Her lips parted as her breathing became more and more shallow and quick. It was the truest fear she'd ever felt, second only to the day she thought she would lose Jane. She was completely out of control, in an unfamiliar environment, no chance that Jane would come bursting through the door. Donegal grabbed her face with rough hands the photo he was still clenching pressed to her cheek and looked her in the eye. He could feel her body shaking; it was a disappointment. "You're not much like him, are you?"

Maura shrieked as a white-hot pain seared through her. Donegal checked to make sure the blade was securely anchored; he placed two fingers over the images of his brother and son that were now tacked to Maura's shoulder.

"Spend a little time with my family."


	9. Whatever It Takes

**Note: Ok, I promised I wouldn't torture you guys forever, this is one is winding down, I have 1 more chapter after this one planned.**

**CH 9: Whatever It Takes**

Patrick Doyle spent the night in Jane's apartment on and off the phone. He called every one of his associates past and present to put them on Declan Donegal's trail. Now they waited.

Doyle's phone lit up with a blocked number he switched it to speaker, "This is Doyle."

"I trust you've had a restless night?" Declan Donegal's voice streamed hollow, emotionless over the line.

"Enough with the games Donegal, how is this gonna go down?"

"Hmph, You always were an arrogant piece of shit, Doyle. Even now you posture like a dumb animal that doesn't know its already lost the fight. You'd like this daughter of yours, the one you didn't know you had. Chip off the old block."

"Let me speak to them, know they're still alive. Then, tell me what you want me to do."

Donegal kneeled down in front of Tara and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Tara kept her eyes trained steadily on Declan Donegal's face.

"Tara, this is Patrick Doyle. Are you hurt?"

"I've been better."

"Can you tell me anything about where you are?"

"No."

Donegal retracted the phone, "Have a nice chat?"

"Let me speak to Maura" with that request Jane rose from the chair and joined Doyle on the sofa.

"Maura?" Doyle asked; he could hear light breathing on the other end. Jane reached for the phone and Doyle let her take it.

"Maura, it's Jane, babe tell me you're ok" Jane's heart was racing.

"Hey…" Maura's voice was almost a whisper; "…I'm…mostly ok" she glanced down at the blade still protruding from her shoulder as she said it.

"Maura, I love you, we're going to find you."

"See they're still alive, for now. Tell me Doyle, do you remember how many days you held my brother and son before you killed them?"

Doyle looked at Jane, "Three days."

"Three days, talk to you tomorrow Doyle" Click.

By the next morning, Jane's apartment looked like a who's who of the Boston Irish crime scene as associate after associate of Patrick Doyle's came and went. She had been able to convince Doyle to let her bring Korsak and Frost in.

Korsak pulled Jane aside, "Jane, I don't like this. When I made that call to Doyle on Tommy O'Rourke that was one thing, this…this is getting big, too big."

"And you think I do? We should be putting cuffs on every one of these scumbags, Patrick Doyle included. But he can find Maura, and we can't. And right now, finding her is the only thing I care about…whatever it takes." Korsak looked at his old partner and nodded, "Whatever it takes."

Tara fought against her restraints until she could feel the warm trickle of blood sliding down her hand from the abrasions. She was exhausted and every part of her ached.

"Why do you fight it?" Maura asked.

"I'd rather fight it and fail than do nothing."

Maura smiled, "When I first found out Doyle was my father, I was so afraid I would be like him. Have that darkness, that evil inside me. I don't worry about that anymore, I've learned a lot about myself since then, what I'm capable of and what I'm not. But I do wish I was more like him, more like you in some ways. I wish I was sitting here right now fighting this rope until my wrists are rubbed raw, I wish I wasn't afraid…of dying, of never seeing Jane again, feeling her in my arms, of not getting to tell her I love her one more time, not being able to fix that our last words to each other were spoken in anger."

"Believe me, I'm terrified" Tara admitted, "But my irrationality is what got us in this mess, you don't want to be like me. But if you want to pull against the rope, just do it, at least it feels like you're doing something."

They smiled at each other as they both wrestled against the restraints.

Complete exhaustion had finally caused Jane to nod off that night. Frost burst in her bedroom startling her awake.

"Jane! We got it, we've got Donegal's location."

Doyle handed Jane a slip of paper with an address, she eyed it, "Doyle, you have to let us take it from here."

Jane, Frost and Korsak met Lt. Cavanaugh and a small contingent of SWAT at the station and briefed them on the situation.

Frost leaned over to whisper to Korsak, "I think the Lt is gonna blow."

SWAT was suiting up and Jane was joining them strapping on a vest.

"Rizzoli! My office!" Cavanaugh marched angrily into his office.

"I swear to God Rizzoli, you're a goddamn clusterfuck if I ever saw one. Two days working with wanted felons…" 

"Lt there was no other way…"

"Can it! I could have your badge for this. When this is all over consider yourself on suspension."

Jane turned to leave, "Rizzoli…" she stopped waiting for the Lt's next volley, "…and off the record, if roles were reversed and it was my wife that bastard had, I'd have done the same thing, whatever it takes."

The scout car radioed that there was little movement at Donegal's house. They waited until nightfall.

When you reach a certain point of exhaustion it's possible to sleep anywhere, in virtually any position. That's what Maura was thinking about as she started to drift off for her third night of sleep tied to a pipe in Declan Donegal's basement. But the sound of shouting and then gunfire jolted her awake.

Maura and Tara both turned their attention to the door as the pounding of heavy footsteps on the floor above echoed down the stairs. Tara began to strain against her bindings again. The door was kicked open with a thunderous crack causing Maura and Tara to both flinch. As Maura slowly opened her eyes, it was not Declan Donegal in the doorway but a member of the SWAT team.

"Doctor" The officer kneeled in front of Maura and radioed back that the house was clear, he set to cutting the rope that bound Maura's hands.

Jane barely paused to acknowledge Declan Donegal's body, a .38 special in his hand and a bullet from SWAT in his chest. She stepped over his body and made her way to the basement stairs. Maura's hands were barely free before Jane came bolting through the door. Maura raised her arms stretching them out to Jane who fell to her knees gathering Maura in her embrace.

"Shhh Shhh" Jane whispered soothingly into Maura's ear as she stroked her tangled hair. She pulled back placing her hands on Maura's face, wiping her tears with her thumbs. "I told you we'd find you." Maura smiled, "I never doubted it." It was then Jane noticed the blade protruding out of Maura's shoulder. "Shit" she reached for it but Maura stopped her.

"Don't pull it out, it will bleed more" Maura squeezed Jane's hand tightly.

Jane looked up at the SWAT officer, "Can you get her upstairs?"

She watched as the officer scooped Maura up and carried her out of the room, Jane walked over to Tara, her hands freed she was still sitting in the same spot arms wrapped around her legs, crying as she watched Jane and Maura.

Jane brushed some stray hairs out of Tara's face and tilted her chin up to look at the gash on her head. "Bet that hurt, what'd he hit you with?"

"It did…still does, pistol-whipped and then I mouthed off and he clocked me with his elbow for good measure."

Jane couldn't stifle a small chuckle as she shook her head, "Damn girl, glutton for punishment?" she hoisted Tara to her feet, "Can you walk?"

Tara nodded and then looked at Jane, "I'm sorry, for all of this…I know you probably don't like me very much…"

"We all do stupid shit from time to time, especially when it comes to our family, just…now that you're part of the family and all, don't make a habit of nearly getting my girlfriend killed, ok?" Jane helped steady Tara as they walked towards the stairs

Tara smiled, "That's it? You're not going to yell at me? I think I was actually more afraid of living and facing you than being killed by Declan Donegal"

Jane laughed "No, I'm not gonna yell at you…yet, I'll at least let you get a good night's sleep first."

When Lt. Cavanaugh, Frost and Korsak left the hospital Jane stepped out into the hallway and made a phone call.

Maura joined her, wrapped her arms around Jane's waist and buried her face in her neck. "I love you, I love you so much" she said breathlessly into Jane's neck, "That's all I thought about the whole time, I just wanted to be able to tell you that again." Jane tightened her grip and kissed Maura on the head.

"Maura."

Maura turned her head to see Patrick Doyle walking towards them. She looked at Jane and then Doyle, "Thank you…for finding us."

Doyle nodded, "Tara?"

"They're going to keep her through the night, she's right in there" Maura motioned towards Tara's hospital room.

"I'll stay with her, if that's ok, you two can go home and get some rest." Doyle excused himself and headed into Tara's room.

Maura stroked Jane's cheek and smiled, "Take me home?"


	10. Requiem

**Note:** This is the last CH of Shadows, thank everyone for following along and for your reviews. The poem cited in this chapter is also from e.e. cummings' volume Viva cited in Chapter 4.

**CH 10: Requiem**

Maura smiled as they pulled up to Jane's apartment, "Home" she whispered before looking at Jane, "It's safe to be here though, right?"

Jane reached over and massaged the back of Maura's neck with strong capable hands; it helped put Maura at ease as she slumped forward slightly, "It's safe, I promise."

"Does your gut tell you that?" Maura looked at Jane with a sly smile.

"It does" Jane smiled back.

"Then that's good enough for me" Maura said taking Jane's hand and kissing it.

"But…just for added security…" Jane pointed out a green van across the street, "…courtesy of Patrick Doyle. And before you get all huffy about it I tried to talk him out of it but he insisted."

Maura sighed, "I'll let it slide…this time."

The inside of Jane's apartment looked like a war zone, papers, photographs, notes and files on Doyle's likely enemies strewn all over the living room surfaces. Take out cartons littered all available counter space. There was even a portable white board that had been stationed in front of the television.

Maura's first priority was a shower. She stripped down and paused to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She touched the cut and bruising on her face and then pealed the bandage down to survey the wound where Donegal had used her as a memory board. Her wrists were raw from being bound, they burned the most in the shower but it still felt good to wash the musty scent of Donegal's basement off her skin and out of her hair.

Maura slid under the covers on her side of the bed and looked at Jane expectantly. Jane scooted over next to her. Her fingers danced lightly over Maura's face caressing her cheek and then down to explore the bruised area around her mouth where Donegal had struck her. Jane leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly trying not to touch the part of her lip that was split. She pulled one of Maura's hands down from her face and eyed the crimson abrasions tinged with hues of green and yellow. Jane pressed her forehead to Maura's wrist and let her nose lightly caress the damaged area.

"It's ok, you can kiss me" Maura said, reaching up to run her hand through Jane's hair and drawing her head back down.

"I don't want to hurt you" Jane whispered, her lips hovering just above Maura's.

"It will be a good pain" she lifted her head to meet Jane's lips.

Jane's mouth consumed her, and it stung but Maura wouldn't have asked her to stop for anything. She pulled Jane on top of her; wrapping her arms around her back she pressed Jane's body tightly into her own.

"I was afraid I'd never get to feel your skin under my fingers again" Maura ran her hands under Jane's shirt following the contours up and down and then digging her nails into Jane's back. She grabbed the bottom of Jane's shirt and slowly rolled it up and over her head and then discarded it on the floor.

Jane kissed a trail up Maura's neck to the sensitive spot under her ear. Her hands snuck under Maura's silk camisole. Maura inhaled and arched her back as Jane's deft hands began to work in a circular motion on her breasts.

Maura raised her arms, "Take it off."

Jane admired the beautiful form beneath her, marred only by the purplish bruise on Maura's left shoulder surrounding the stab wound knitted back together with a few stitches. She ran her finger lightly over the area letting the scratchy ends of the nylon sutures tickle her fingertips. She slid down placing kisses along Maura's collarbone, down her sternum and then drawing a nipple into her mouth she licked and sucked and bit down gently eliciting groans of pleasure from her lover. Jane started to work her way further down but Maura stopped her.

"No, I want to see you, I want to be able to put my hands on you."

Jane sat up and slid her briefs off and then threaded her hands under Maura's back pulling her up and into her lap. Maura reinitiated her assault on Jane's mouth biting at her lower lip in the process. Jane started tugging at Maura's pajama pants causing Maura to lean back so that Jane could remove them.

She crawled back into Jane's arms, straddling her lap. They paused holding each other's stare. Jane cupped Maura's face, "Make a deal with me."

Maura leaned forward to rest her forehead against Jane's, their noses pressed together, exchanging gentle breaths, "Anything."

"We never fight and leave each other's sight before it's fixed ever again."

"Deal."

Jane's hand traveled down her body finding Maura's warmth, and Maura reciprocated. She rolled her hips as Jane slid two fingers inside her. Maura wound her free hand through the brunette's hair and pressed her cheek to Jane's. Jane could feel Maura's ragged breath teasing over her ear.

They came together, silently; Maura gripped the back of Jane's neck and pressed her lips to Jane's temple as she rode out her orgasm, only the faintest moan humming in her throat. Jane kneaded and massaged up Maura's back exhaling a hurried flush of hot air against her neck as she came.

Jane started to pull out of her, "No…" Maura said with what little breath she could muster, "…stay with me." Jane eased Maura back down to the bed, resting on top of her; still inside her she started again.

"You're not what I expected" Tara looked at the balding man sitting next to her bed. His eyelids were puffy and he had bags under his eyes. She wondered if it was from the events of the past couple of days or from a lifetime of the same. He certainly didn't look like a hardened criminal, a major crime boss….a murderer.

"Hmm, I get that a lot. What did you expect?" Doyle eyed his daughter, she and Maura bore a striking resemblance, though Tara had more of her mother's nose and green eyes. He had loved gazing into those eyes.

"I thought you'd be taller."

He laughed, "I see you got your mother's sense of humor."

"But your temper…or so I've been told over the past couple of days" she added.

"Nah, that's spirit, and you got that from your mother too, your tenacity…that you got from me."

Tara smiled, "Tenacity…is that what they're calling running off half-cocked these days?"

Doyle smiled, "Yeah, that'd be it. Get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

With Declan Donegal dead and his three associates behind bars, Margaret Callaghan's murder was solved. Maura sat in the morgue, next to her mother's body and waited on the funeral home to arrive for transport.

Tara walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, "They're here."

They watched as Margaret was taken away.

Maura looked at Tara who was wiping a tear from her cheek. She reached out and took Tara's hand.

"Would you tell me about her? What she was like?"

Tara smiled, "I'd like that."

The days leading up to the funeral were hectic. Maura left the actual service plans to Tara, being unfamiliar with the ins and outs of planning a Catholic funeral mass. Tara introduced Maura to cousins from Margaret's side and Maura took Tara to her adoptive parents' house for dinner, Angela Rizzoli brought meals over each day, more food than could possibly be eaten.

Maura stood in the cemetery before the graveside began, all things considered it was the perfect day; the sky was clear and the slight chill in the air was offset by the warming rays of sun that were unfettered by a cloudless sky. She felt familiar strong arms wrap tenderly around her waist and soft lips press against her cheek.

"How are you holding up?"

Maura smiled as she looked into Jane's eyes, "I feel…strangely peaceful. Like for the first time in my life everything feels complete and she's a part of that and she always will be even though I never got to know her. I don't feel like I'm haunted by shadows that I can't catch anymore."

When the priest was finished Tara stood and faced the small gathering. On the hill in the distance, she could see Patrick Doyle walking hesitantly towards the service. He stopped a little ways back from the funeral awning so as not to attract attention. Tara smiled and acknowledged him with a nod and then unfolded a slip of paper she retrieved from her pocket.

She read:

_If there are any heavens my mother will all by herself have one._

_It will not be a pansy heaven_

_Nor a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but_

_It will be a heaven of blackred roses_

_My father will be deep like a rose tall like a rose_

_Standing near my_

_Swaying over her_

_Silent_

_With eyes which are really petals and see_

_Nothing with the face of a poet really which_

_Is a flower and not a face with_

_Hands_

_Which whisper_

_This is my beloved my_

_Suddenly in sunlight_

_He will bow,_

_And the whole garden will bow._

_~e.e. cummings_

She folded the paper back into a tiny square and tucked it into the flower arrangement atop the casket. Returning to her seat Maura placed her hand over Tara's and intertwined their fingers; Tara's silver cuff bracelet on her right wrist next to the gold cuff on Maura's left.

Tara smiled, "Thank you" she whispered.

Maura looked at her questioningly.

Tara squeezed her hand back and looked at Maura and then past her to Jane, then to Maura's parents sitting behind them with the Rizzolis, "For letting me be part of your family."


End file.
